Keep You Hands Off My Girl
by Kevvy Talks
Summary: There was no way he was gonna watch someone mess with his girl.


**Keep Your Hands Off My Girl**

**Characters/Pairings: Renji/Rukia, Ichigo**

**Genre: Romance/Humor**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: There was no way in hell he was gonna watch someone mess with **_**his **_**girl.**

**A/N: This is AU. I don't own Good Charlotte's Keep Your Hands Off My Girl. The song is so bad-ass it deserved a fic inspired by it.  
**

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The record kept playing the same song over and over in a never-ending mantra, but despite the incessant racket, he didn't mind it a bit. The beat didn't at all stop the way she swung her hips or licked her lips when she finished a shot.

He had to give her credit for the way she dressed, though: short black mini skirt, white halter top and a leather jacket that fit her slim figure.

She swung her raven black hair over her shoulder and blew that stubborn bang out of her face every time it got in her way, her violet irises flickering in the light of the neon signs hung up above the bar.

Renji was simple, faded jeans cleaved at the knees and a wife beater. His jacket was hanging on the chair next to him, of which he admitted to momentarily forgetting as he swung his boots up onto the table and leaned back comfortably in his chair. Not that he cared if someone snatched it. He was too busy ogling _her._

His waist-length, crimson tresses were pulled up in neat ponytail, and he'd added a white bandana to keep any stray hairs at bay.

Renji's brown eyes roved over her, and he cocked his head invitingly when she met his gaze from across the room.

Rukia Kuchiki was her name, and such a nice one, too. Yet, popular though she was with the other men closest to her, she didn't give them any hint that she was interested, nor did she approach Renji.

Her pink lips curved in a cute, sexy smile, and she swayed on the spot, moving her body in ways that should be illegal. Her slim fingers toyed with the zipper of her leather coat, and when he tensed and sat up in his chair, she gave a coy laugh, although he couldn't hear it over the incessant music blaring from the outdated jukebox nearby.

All he could see was pale, porcelain skin as Rukia slipped out from the cover of the fabric she'd been hiding behind, her ebony-colored bra visible through the thin material of her top. He knew she liked what she saw. She liked the wolfish grin, the dark tattoos, the model 26 he kept tucked away. And yet she never came over to ask what was up, she just stayed posted up on the other side of the room.

Other men approached her, tried to buy her a drink, and each time she would give them the look and send them packing.

Rukia never refused Ichigo, though. Renji had gotten mugged by his gang a few times around for mouthing off, but it was nothing serious. He knew how to take care of himself.

The spiky-haired punk would talk casually with her, but she had a habit of never looking him in the eye when they exchanged words, which sometimes led to hissy fits on Ichigo's end.

He'd slap her, and she would knock him off his feet with her left hook, and the bartender and the rest of the drunks would scram as quickly as they could as an all-out fight took place.

Rukia would never talk much, but Ichigo had a way of pulling her strings. Renji guessed that he was just a bit dimmer than that strikingly orange hair of his.

There were always quarrels, violent and spoken with sharp tongues as harsh as sandpaper. At first, it was all about _not _getting involved. And then Renji stepped in because he was getting fucking sick of watching them rip each other's throats out.

He was just trying to stay out of it, but how could he when the sexiest chick in the world was standing in the same room as him?

Anyway, it seemed apparent that the boy was starting to hate the girl that came with him. You took the life of a gangster, and eventually all the bad girls wanted to tag along. But Rukia wasn't just badass, she was the _hottest _thing in this bar.

They got to fighting and swearing, and the boyfriend naturally stared when Renji intervened.

"Back off, Abarai. Unless you wanna die," Ichigo growled. The kid shoved his hands in his jeans, and Rukia glared at Renji, as if trying to telepathically tell him she could handle this herself. And the first few times, Renji did back off.

He surveyed as they brawled, and it was only the same outcome each time: Ichigo would drag her, kicking and screaming out the door, and they would drive off, leaving everyone in their dust.

But the next time it happened Renji didn't step back. She walked over, slammed her palms onto the table, and leaned over, her skirt riding up those milky thighs of hers.

She was unfazed as ever, unscarred whenever she returned the following days after the incidents with Ichigo. She never talked about it, and frankly no one asked. They all knew she could fend for herself.

"Renji," she almost purred. "How 'bout you buy me a drink...since you insist on staring at me like that." She reached forward, fondling the chain around his neck and enticing every male behind her to lean forward to catch sight of her ass as she practically crawled on top of the table.

Renji swallowed when she tilted so close to him that he could feel her warm breath on his ear. A few envious individuals glowered at him.

Ichigo Kurosaki, however, threw a glass at him that narrowly missed his head by inches. "What the hell!" Rukia screeched as it hit the wall and shattered.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" he snarled. She walked across the floor to him, and when he raised his hand to strike her, she dodged.

Profanity was flung left and right, and Renji rose, chair scraping across the hardwood surface.

"Hey," he called. "Stop it, you two... both of you."

Ichigo pushed Rukia aside and dove for Renji, pushing the latter into the table and sending empty cups of what had formally contained sake to the ground.

Rukia yelled furiously, then there was a click and a heavy silence fell over the entire bar.

"Back...off," Renji enunciated carefully, one hand on the edge of the table to support himself and the other holding the gun that was pressed to Ichigo's temple.

The teen smirked."You gotta lotta nerve fuckin' with the yakuza, ya know that?" he spat. And there that wolfish grin was again.

"I gathered that. But unless the yakuza wants their commander with a bullet in his head, then I guess you're gonna have to back away."

Ichigo stepped back, eyes flashing with fury, and turned, grabbing Rukia by the arm and jerking her forward.

"Hey!" Renji barked, causing the pair to halt. He waved his gun lazily. "Keep your hands off my girl, will ya?" Rukia smiled noticeably, and yanked herself away from her now ex-boyfriend, leering evilly and sticking her tongue out at the younger male.

Ichigo hissed, slamming the door behind him as he stormed out of the bar.

"So...," Renji said, holstering his piece," about that drink..." Rukia clung to his arm, dragging him to the counter to purchase something alcoholic that would give him a good hangover in the morning. But, he reasoned, that wasn't so bad if he had his girl with him.

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**A/N: This wasn't as hard to write as I'd thought it'd be. And I found I actually liked writing Rukia and Renji in hot and heavy situations.**


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